


Sky’s Still Blue

by WitchBitxh



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Blind Character, Blindness, Falling In Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, blind!mickey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchBitxh/pseuds/WitchBitxh
Summary: Previously named “Foresight”Ian Gallagher was kicked out of West Point when he was 18, due to his manic state. He is now 20 and diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. He is trying to find his purpose in life. The gorgeous man who always sits in the corner booth of his favorite diner with a piece of paper and colored pencils might be able to help him.Mickey Milkovich became blind at the age of 16 after a traumatizing event. Now 21, he has lost touch with his artistic side, but he’s trying to reconstitute that passion. Maybe the man with the mesmerizing voice can help him find his spark.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Lip Gallagher, Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich & Sandy Milkovich
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74





	Sky’s Still Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Ian and Lip go to his favorite diner for breakfast, but Ian can’t keep his eyes of the gorgeous man across the diner.
> 
> Thank you, Gianna a.k.a. [iblewupavan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iblewupavan) for betaing this.

The only sound that came through Mickey and Sandy’s apartment was the jangle of her charm bracelet. Mickey’s only way of telling where she was. She was in the bathroom getting ready for work.

Mickey finally decided to get out of bed. Most days he would rather just lay in bed and let never-ending darkness surround him and his thoughts. 

He grabbed his phone and activated Siri, asking what time it was. It was 10:27 am. 

He grabbed his white cane and walked to his closet. His warm feet being cooled by the cold wooden floor. He felt for the braille tags that hung on the hangers, telling him the colors. Sandy organized all of this, of course, it made it easier for him, and it meant that she wasn't overbearing. He picked the soft blue shirt and black jeans. The blue matched his eyes, or at least they did from what he could remember, which wasn’t much.

He changed his clothes and walked through the hallway until he reached the bathroom. Feeling Sandy’s presence as he walked through the threshold.

“Hey, Mick. We got ten minutes until we gotta leave, so hurry up,” she said hurriedly, tying her hair into a ponytail. She ran out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, grabbing a granola bar. Eating it in the span of twenty seconds.

Mickey grabbed the toothbrush to his right and the toothpaste to his left, brushing his teeth. 

Everything was so organized. He doesn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have Sandy. She’s the only person who cares about him. 

After he was done brushing his teeth, he slathered gel through his charcoal black hair.

“Mickey, let’s go!” Sandy grabbed her bag and waited until she heard the tapping of Mickey’s white cane against the linoleum.

“Fuck off! I’m coming,” Mickey grumbled. Sandy’s pushy behavior was comforting but also annoying. He wasn’t a baby.

They left the apartment and walked down the steps. Mickey having a strong grip on Sandy’s arm, letting her lead the way to Patsy’s.

Some people stopped and stared, which they were used to. Others went on with the busy hustle of the South Side on a regular weekday.

Sandy opened the door to the diner, letting Mickey walk through the almost completely memorized area. He sat down in his booth, pulling his sketchbook and supplies out of his bookbag.

Sandy walked over to him, tying her apron around her waist. “Carol will be over in about five minutes with your pancakes and coffee.” She kissed his forehead and was about to walk over to other awaiting customers, but stopped when Mickey spoke.

“Banana?” Mickey asked as he drew the lines that popped up in his head.

Sandy smirked and said, “Like always.”

* * *

Ian’s been out of the psych ward for about two and a half weeks now. Lip had been postponing this breakfast meetup since Freddie was born. The birth of his son left his schedule pretty hectic and unsure.

What better place to go to than the place Ian has been frequenting since his release from the psych ward? It obviously had nothing to do with the man with gorgeous blue eyes, wearing an outfit that matched, by the way, sitting directly across from them.

Where they sat was perfect; warm, comfy, and Ian had an amazing view.

Ian ran his hands across the worn-in leather, then he squeezed it tight. He found it quite comforting and grounding. His recent change of meds making him feel somewhat out of it. Slowly, but surely he was starting to feel like himself again.

He could feel Lip analyzing every movement he made, which was getting quite annoying. He understood, though. It was routine. Make sure he’s okay. Make sure he takes his meds. Make sure you nag the fuck out of him.

“You alright?” Lip asked as a tall waitress with red hair came over to their table.

Ian moves his attention back to Lip and away from the unnamed man. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

She walked up to their booth with an obviously fake smile. “Hi! My name’s Sandy, and I'll be your server today. What will you be having?”

Ian gave his answer quickly, knowing the menu like the back of his hand. French toast and black coffee, of course. He took one glance at Lip and already knew what this fucker was about to do.

Lip let his eyes look over the waitress one last time. “I’ll have some pancakes and you. If that’s okay?”

Sandy raised her eyebrows, picking their menus up. She gave Lip a sarcastic smile, then said, “Sorry, but you’re not my type.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s your type?”

Sandy looked him dead in the eye and said, “Women.”

Ian snorted under the hand that was covering his mouth, grunting when Lip kicked him in the shin.

Lip then scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment and stammered out an apology.

Sandy waived it off and walked into the kitchen.

Ian smacked his brother's arm once he saw that she had left their area. “Aren’t you still with Tami?”

“Technically, yes. Technically, no.” Ian tilted his head to the side, listening thoughtfully. “She wanted to try the whole co-parenting thing. Y’know ‘cause before Fred was born we didn’t really go on dates, and now we've noticed that we don’t really know each other.”

Ian scrunched his face up in confusion. “Why don’t you just take her on a date.”

Lip let out a short laugh, seeing Ian’s child-like face dripping with confusion. “I tried telling her that, and, besides, we can’t afford a babysitter right now.”

“I could do it.” It’s not like Ian had anything to do right now. His life has become somewhat dull after being kicked out of West Point.

“I don’t know, Ian, you just got on a new regimen so-”

“I’m not fucking dying. I can take care of the kid, Lip.”

“I know, alright. I just worry about you. You just got out of the psych ward for the second time in less than a year.” 

“I’m fine. Trust me, this new regimen is the one. I can feel it.” Ian said, finally feeling happy about something.

“That’s good, that’s really good. When do you see your therapist this week?” Lip said trying to be as supportive as he could be because that’s what Ian needs.

“Tomorrow,” Ian mumbled as his eyes moved back to the raven-haired man sitting across the diner from him. He was surrounded by a bunch of crumpled up pieces of paper. 

Lip snapped his fingers as he saw his brother zone out once again. “Why the fuck do you keep looking back there?”

“Oh, uh, no reason,” Ian said, blushing when he looked back at Lip.

Lip’s curiosity took the better of him, and he turned to look. He saw a young man with a stack of pancakes and coffee on his table. “Jesus Christ, Ian. Just go talk to the poor guy.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’ve been coming here for two weeks, and he’s always here,” Ian said, glancing at the gorgeous man once more. “It’s like he never leaves. He’s interesting.”

“Seems like he’s more than interesting to you,” Lip snorted. “Just go talk to him.”

* * *

“Here you go, Mickey,” Carol said as she placed his coffee and pancakes on the table. All the waitresses knew Mickey. They treated him like family because he was family. “Enjoy!”

“Thanks,” Mickey sighed as he smelled the coffee floating through the air and into his nostrils.

She left, and Mickey went back to what he was doing. Absolutely nothing.

Mickey was carefully putting the cut pieces of the pancake into his mouth. He was trying not to make a syrupy mess on his shirt. 

He sat the fork down and felt for his pencil. Once he found it, he started drawing daisies. Those seemed to be the only things he could draw nowadays. He remembered what they looked like and felt like from when his mother would take him to flower fields as a kid.

But, that wasn’t what he wanted to draw. His passion was people. People hold so many emotions in their facial features. He wants to draw people.

He heard the noise of something sliding across the other seat in his booth. He glanced up, feeling a pair of eyes on him, but looked back down once he released his eyes were probably looking in the wrong direction.

Before he knew what happened he heard a loud “Hi,” coming from across from him.

Mickey jumped out of his skin and accidentally knocked his cup of coffee off the table. It shattered once ceramic hit wood. “Fuck!”

“Shit! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He heard a young man say. His voice was soft, comforting. When the man let out a soft laugh it was probably the cutest thing Mickey had ever heard. “I’m Ian.”

Across the diner, Sandy was setting the food down at Lip and Ian’s table when she heard the coffee mug smash on the ground.

She slammed the tray of food on their table and ran to Mickey. “Mickey, you okay?”

“S-Sandy,” Mickey said shakily, grabbing her wrist. The charm bracelet calmed him down and brought him back to his surroundings.

Ian took notice of Mickey’s movements and then decided to look around him. There was a folded white cane, a book written in braille, and, of course, there was Mickey, whose eyes were looking everywhere without focus.

Mickey was blind.

Sandy looked at Ian with this look of anger only a best friend could have. Her own hand gripped Mickey’s tightly. “I think you should leave.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know.” Ian stood up fast and left the table tripping over his gangly legs. He didn’t even hear Mickey’s soft voice say  _ wait _ .

He sat down and saw Lip looking at him with a smirk. “Looks like that didn’t go well.”

“Fuck off. He’s blind,” Ian said, banging his head on the table a few times for good measure. He groaned and then spoke again. “I scared the shit out of him.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to give up,” Lip said, using his newly found dad voice. He ruffled Ian’s hair to prove his point further. “Hey, maybe he can get you out of this little funk you’re in.”

“I’m not in a funk,” Ian grumbled, even though he knew Lip was telling the truth. He was in a funk, he’s been in one since he was 18.

“Uh, yeah you are. Maybe getting laid can help you with that.”

“I don’t wanna get laid. I want a purpose in life.”

* * *

Sandy had just finished cleaning up the mess Mickey made. Mickey still had a grip on her wrist. Every time she tried to move he would hold tighter.

She tried moving again, and he pulled, “Oh my god, Mick. What do you want? I gotta get back to work.”

“What’d he look like?” Mickey felt giddy but tried to put on a façade. Sandy saw right through it. Not many guys hit on Mickey. Well that might be more about his knuckle tattoos and angry demeanor than about his blindness. But, still, it made him feel good, at least for the moment.

Sandy looked back over to the table Ian was seated at. He was currently shoving his french toast into his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Cute. I’d fuck him if he was a girl.”

Mickey smacked her hand, “Fuck off. You know what I mean.”

“Alright, let’s see.” She analyzed Ian’s face. “Tall, sweet, and red hair. You remember what that looks like, right?”

Flashes of blood, fire, and pain went through Mickey’s mind. Thinking of Ian’s voice calmed his darkening thoughts. “Uh, I think so. Can you hand me the red pencil?”

Sandy grabbed the pencil and handed it to him. She looked on in wonder as Mickey started to color in the daisy petals with the red pencil. It was like magic, the way his hands glided over the paper effortlessly. It was his superpower.

* * *

Ian was driving Lip back to his house, he shared with Tami and their son. They had spent the whole day together catching up on all they missed together. The car was filled with a comfortable silence.

Ian pulled up to the curb and unlocked the doors to let Lip out. Before he could drive off Lip moved back over to the car window.

“Y’know, if you actually like the guy, try to get to know him. Don’t pussy out.” Lip made sure Ian kept eye contact with him while he said this. “He’s not his disability, and you, Ian, are not your disorder.”

Ian turned away and shook his head up and down slightly. If only he had believed what Lip was saying. He knew Mickey was more than his disability, that didn’t change anything. But, was he more than his disorder? He had no job, no purpose. He’s living in a one-bedroom apartment, making his way through life on disability checks.

Ian decided to drive around for a few hours to clear his head. That didn’t stop the thoughts of the short, gorgeous, blue-eyed man.

* * *

Mickey and Sandy had just gotten home after her ten-hour shift at the diner. Mickey still couldn’t get Ian’s voice out of his head. It was like it was playing on a loop.

He found his way to the couch effortlessly. Sandy went into the kitchen grabbing both of them fresh beers from the fridge.

She flopped down right next to him, popping the beer caps off. She turned the music on, letting it quietly play through the speakers. She looked over to Mickey and could tell something was plaguing his thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” She took a sip of her beer, waiting for him to answer.

Mickey’s head jerked slightly towards her, not expecting her to speak. “Huh? Oh, nothing”

Sandy grabbed his hand that was scratching at his denim pants. He didn’t even notice that he was doing it. He did that a lot. He would get lost in his own head, and nothing could pull him back. The darkness trapping him. Sometimes it would pull him in so far that he would remember  _ the event _ .

Sandy could see right through the blatant lie. She knows Mickey. She’s his best friend. “Is it about the redhead?”

“Ian. His name’s Ian,” Mickey said. His head fell back onto the couch. He was reminiscing. He felt like a love-struck teenager, and he hadn’t even properly met the guy yet.

“What if he’s just playing you like that other guy?” Mickey moved his head back down sorrowfully. She was right. Of course she was right. Sandy’s always right. “I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I know, I know,” Mickey mumbled. There was this one guy, Jake. They don’t talk about Jake. Ever. He moved his eyes towards the area Sandy was sitting in, that’s the closest he can get to eye contact. He stated with a soft chuckle, “Who would date a blind guy anyway, right?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Sandy scooted over and laid her head on Mickey’s shoulder. “I love you, and I want the best for you. Even if the best means buying you $100 art supplies.”

“Soft bitch,” Mickey chuckled and gave her a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I’m gonna go try to get some sleep. Night.”

“Are you sure? It’s only 10 pm,” Sandy asked, confused and worried. She always seemed like the sister he never had. “We could watch a movie or keep listening to music.”

“Nah, I’m beat. Love you.” Mickey said as he got up and made his way to his room. 

It had a comforting feel to it even though he’s never even seen what it looks like. Sandy decorated it, as she did with everything else in their apartment. She likes being in control.

He plugged his phone into his charger, then took all his clothes off besides his boxers. He went under his covers and closed his eyes.

Who's to say how long it took him to fall asleep. It definitely had nothing to do with the man with the beautiful voice.

Okay. It had everything to do with the man with the beautiful voice.

_ Ian. _

* * *

Ian opened the door to his small apartment and dropped his keys into the bowl next to the door. 

He opened his tiny fridge and grabbed the last beer he had. Fuck, He needs to go shopping. Fuck, he needs a job.

He ran his hands through his fiery hair and sat down on his couch. He couldn’t stop replaying the events of the day in his mind. Well, one specific event, meeting the very interesting, and shy Mickey.

He popped the cap off his beer and took a swig of the bitter, brown liquid. He tried to calm his thoughts, but nothing seemed to have worked, so he just let them run wild.

If he were to try and pursue this relationship with Mickey would it end in heartbreak and disappointment? Could Mickey deal with the baggage that came with Ian? Ian knew he could deal with Mickey’s blindness. It doesn’t change who he is. Ian doesn’t know who he is half the time.

Ian closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind. All he could hear was Lip telling him that he’s not his disorder. He is Ian, and he wants Mickey.

He opened his eyes and jumped up off the couch. He scrambled to his room looking for his old, run-down laptop. He searched through his messy bedsheets, dirty laundry, and etc. He finally found it almost under his dresser. He opened it and went to his web browser, searching ‘how to get a blind person’s attention’ and making a plan.

_ Ask Mickey out. _

And if this plan failed, then he would be completely fucked.

He closed his laptop and flopped back on his bed. He passed out right then and there.

Who's to say what his dreams were about. They definitely had nothing to do with the man with the beautiful sky blue eyes.

Okay. It had everything to do with the man with the beautiful sky blue eyes.

_ Mickey. _

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first ever multi-chapter fic, so any and all comments are welcomed. 
> 
> I’m not sure if this story will be 10 chapters but that is the estimate.
> 
> I’ll try to post a chapter every week.


End file.
